


Mischief Candy

by whiskygalore



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Outsider, Supernatural Reversebang 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27686417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore/pseuds/whiskygalore
Summary: The town of Mischief has always been a little magical, even if no human ever noticed.
Relationships: Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 25
Kudos: 72
Collections: 2020 Supernatural Reversebang Challenge





	Mischief Candy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Spn reversebang 2020 to accompany BeeLikeJ’s gorgeous J3 art! Many thanks to the Mod (*cough* Bee) for all the work she always pours into this challenge! Thanks too to DevotedWinchesters (DarlingFlyingFx) on Twitter who jumped in like a lifesaver at the last minute to beta for me. Any mistakes remaining are all my own work!!
> 
> And of course, thank you (again) to BeeLikeJ for being the most amazing artist to work with. For always having faith that I will actually finish even if it is last minute. And for always going above and beyond in producing the most stunning artwork! Love you Bee!! 
> 
> This isn’t my normal fic, but I thought Bee’s art deserved something a little different!

[ ](https://beelikej.livejournal.com/565003.html)

  
  
She had been here a long time. Longer than anyone else in this odd little town called Mischief. Longer than old Bert, who spent his days sitting on the wooden bench in the town square feeding the birds and grumbling at rowdy teenagers. Longer even than Mrs. MacDougall, who celebrated her 81st birthday with her 26 grandchildren. Then drank half a bottle of gin and propositioned the priest who’d dropped by to offer his felicitations. 

Of course, not another soul knew she’d been around this long. She was clever. Crafty. She knew how to hide in plain sight. 

If they were aware of how long she’d been here, after they got over the shock of realising her true age, she imagined people might ask why. Why, when she could go anywhere, had she stayed here, in this quiet town in the middle of nowhere-in-particular. 

And she would tell them. Magic. 

There was magic here. She could smell it. Taste it.

At first, when she’d arrived, blown in by an easterly wind, there had just been a low hum of energy. The softest sensation calling out to her. Singing through her veins. She could feel something in the air. Something worth waiting for. 

And wait she did. Years. Watching the children grow. Watching them leave. And later watching as some of them returned. Had children of their own. Grandchildren.

The gentle hum of magic didn’t change. It didn’t disappear or grow any stronger, it just stayed a constant rumbling vibration in her bones. The only time, or place, it altered was in one particular area. There the magic sparked in the air just a tiny bit clearer. The spot was nothing special. Just a bland shop off Main Street. The facade painted brown, and then, through the years, painted grey, and then olive green, then a dozen shades of blue. When she first found the place, it was a bakery. The owner, a large pot-bellied man, with a hearty laugh, made the most delicious loaves of bread she’d ever smelled.

Times changed, and the bakery turned into an ice cream parlour, and then a delicatessen, and back to a bakery before becoming a coffee shop. The underlying energy remained. No one else ever appeared to notice, but the little store always seemed full of cheer. The people who ran it had happy lives. Well fed and content families. The store never lacked customers. It was as though the townsfolk were drawn there. Perhaps it was the aroma of freshly baked bread, or ground coffee, but perhaps, _perhaps_ , deep down they sensed what she did. That magic was in the air. 

The store had been empty for a year, maybe two, when change finally came. The last owner had passed away and his children, grown up and busy with their own lives, hadn’t wanted to take over an old-fashioned store in an old-fashioned town.   
  


She knew as soon as he arrived. Felt the energy shift. The air around her buzz with excitement. The flowers in the hanging baskets down Main Street seemed to straighten their stalks and lift their heads in expectation.

He was handsome. Tall and dark-haired, with chocolate eyes that sparkled in the sun and hands that were as kind as they were strong. He wore colourful clothes that made the children smile and the menfolk scowl. And he had a lopsided, dimpled smile that made the women blush.

The _For Sale_ sign disappeared from the dirt-covered store window, and the man moved into the apartment above. There was no removal van. No u-haul, or loaded trailer. Just fresh drapes hanging at the windows, swirls of grey smoke rising from the chimney and a sign on the door which stated, “ _Opening soon_ ”. 

It took just two weeks from the man’s arrival to the reopening of the store. It wasn’t a grand affair, no fanfare or big announcement. One morning, the store was simply open for business. The facade was painted red, the signage had fancy golden lettering that proclaimed “Mischief Candy” and the sweet smells that drifted out through the door pulled in customers from one end of town to the next. 

Jeffrey Dean Morgan was the man’s name. “Just call me, Jeff,” he said, with a wink and a smile that dazzled everyone who walked through his door. Mothers, fathers, scowling teenagers, screaming toddlers, grandparents and babies; everyone fell in love with the man _and_ his candies. Dark caramel filled chocolates, strawberry laces, peanut butter cups, swedish fish, rainbow lollipops, there was a delicious treat for everyone. 

Perhaps the townsfolk should have been suspicious of a handsome stranger appearing in their midst. But any thoughts of who, and why, and where did he come from, never seemed to settle in anyone’s mind, fluttering off instead like glitter floating away on a gentle breeze. 

Jeff and his candy shop filled a space in the heart of Mischief that no one realised had been empty. The town felt more lively, the sky clearer, the weather far more pleasant. The visitors who drifted through became more common and always commented on how lovely a town it was. How friendly the people. How bright the flowers that bloomed in the gardens. 

Jeff and Mischief Candy made life a little brighter for everyone.

And so the feeling she’d had of waiting for something to happen, something to appear, lessened, but didn’t disappear altogether. Like Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s arrival was the start of a tale, not the full story.

  


Jared Padalecki had been a precocious child. A chatterbox his momma had called him. Exhausting, said his papa. Bright, said his teachers, but overly talkative. Sociable, his gamma had said. Jesus Christ, shut up, Jared, his big brother said more than once. But his boundless energy and quick tongue had talked him into the debate team in high school when he’d been only a sophomore. And he’d turned that debate team into state champions and himself into a college boy. He left town for four years of school, and two years of a good job he grew to hate, and then he returned home to his momma’s house to figure out what to do with his life.

Jared’s tail may have been tucked between his legs when he first showed his face back in Mischief, but as soon as he discovered the new candy store, he rediscovered his purpose in life. 

That purpose was Jeffrey Dean Morgan. The man never stood a chance.

She watched in amusement as Jared pursued Jeff with the whirlwind energy that used to drive his parents insane. 

Not that Jeff needed much pursuing. Not from Jared, at least. Jared was tall, even taller than Jeff, with dark, floppy hair, broad shoulders, never-ending legs, a dimpled smile and a taste in loud shirts that rivalled even Jeff’s. He also had a sweet-tooth that would have found him in a candy store even if he hadn’t fallen madly in love with the owner. 

Jared visited the store religiously every day. Sometimes, if Jeff was busy, he’d simply buy a bag of chocolate mice and leave with a cheerful wave. Other days when Jeff had time to stand and talk, Jared peppered him with a myriad of questions. What candy did he recommend? What was his favourite chocolate? Was he married? Why did he not sell gummi worms? Did he make the chocolate bark himself? Why was he not married? Did he date?

Jeff answered each and every question, patient and good-natured. But he only answered the questions that Jared asked. Never the one that lay just under the surface. 

It took Jared five weeks to finally ask Jeff that question. Stuttering and red-faced.

“Will you… sometime… tomorrow… or… whenever… go out with me? On a… y’know… a date?”

Jeff said yes, with a smirk that added, what took you so long. 

After three dates, Jared moved in with Jeff, into the apartment above Mischief Candy. 

Few people were invited up there. She certainly wasn’t. But she had her ways. And she knew how many boxes Jared moved in. She saw Jeff, somehow, some might say magically, make room in his wardrobe for all Jared’s brightly patterned shirts and almost too-short pants. She watched the way they traded soft looks and gentle kisses. 

She saw Jared light up Jeff’s quiet life with his infectious good humour, and Jeff calm Jared’s over-excitable nature. 

It wasn’t long before Jared started helping Jeff out in the store. He was a charmer and a natural flirt, the perfect salesman. Not that Jeff’s candy took much work to sell. But the store seemed to thrive more each day.

Jared talked Jeff into selling ice-cream from an old-fashioned machine they bought and installed in the corner of the store. Jeff watched with fond amusement as Jared spent hours learning how to use it, and then use it _well_ , experimenting with flavours and colours that ice-cream should never be. And though there were a few disasters — even Jeff, as sweet-toothed and besotted with Jared as he was, couldn’t pretend the bubblegum ice cream was anything but eye-wateringly, tooth-rottingly over-sweet — it wasn’t long before Jared’s creations were the talk of the town. Soon, even folks from neighbouring counties were making trips to Mischief Candy. Eating swirling cones of rainbow-coloured ice-cream in the town square, with boxes of candy to take home tucked under their arms. 

Not one person ever took issue with the fact Jared and Jeff were a couple. Even though they traded kisses across the counter in front of children, no one thought to mind. Pastor Whyte didn’t so much as blink when he called into the shop for his bag of aniseed twists and found Jared with his hands rucked up below Jeff’s shirt and his mouth latched onto his collarbone. 

And perhaps this less-than-liberal small town’s unwavering acceptance of Jeff and Jared had something to do with the visitors and the money they brought to Mischief, or perhaps it had more to do with the undercurrent of magic that never wavered from the foundations of their store. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that when Todd Bryan asked Stevie Winkleman to prom, and a few of the parents decided to kick up a fuss, every single one of the high school kids stood firm and refused to go unless _everyone_ could go. 

And when the principal backed them and all but one parent had shame-facedly climbed down, Jared and Jeff made sure the prom had enough candy to fuel a teenage sugar-high for the entire night. 

It was maybe odd that the one protesting parent — a divorced father with a black temper swirling around his head like a rain cloud, who thought no one knew he was behind the angry letters and hate-filled, anonymous rants in the local newspaper — still decided to visit the store to buy his favourite chocolates. Later, he was never very sure how he managed to leave instead with a pastel pink bag of fruity chews and Jared’s very special unicorn sparkle ice-cream in a rainbow cone. And he never consciously noticed that with every candy he ate the memories of his father’s belt and nightmares of his priest’s rage faded slowly but surely. By the time he’d finished the last candy, he found his nights more restful and his heart less fractured.

And though there were a few eyebrows tilted in surprise, no one complained at all when he started dating, Walter, the high school gym coach.   
  


One might be tempted to think that could be the end of the story. That Jeff and Jared brought peace and prosperity and rainbow-coloured hope to the town of Mischief. That the magical potential had been fulfilled. 

But she knew better. Two was better than one, for sure. Jeff had Jared and Jared had Jeff and the town of Mischief flourished. But there was still something missing. A final piece of the puzzle that had yet to fall into place. A spark of magic that flickered and never died, but never flared to life, either.   
  


  
Six years after Jeff moved to Mischief, four years after Jared moved into his home and his heart, she finally felt another shift in the air. This one was different. Not the excitement she’d felt when Jeff appeared or the lightning sparks when Jared set lovestruck eyes on Jeff for the first time. This time the magic below her feet trembled as though afraid of what was coming. 

He rolled up in a van as black as the dead of night. He was tall, and thick with it, neck as wide as his head and shoulders strong enough to knock through a barn door. His boots were thick-soled and steel-toed, and she could smell the putrid stench of blood on them through the layers of dirt.

The night he appeared, he parked the van across from Mischief Candy, climbed out, and lit a cigarette. Leaning against his door, he glared at the store and the glow of lights from the windows in the apartment above. Even from a distance she could see the darkness in his eyes. And she knew, with certainty, that darkness was a reflection of his soul.

When he ground the cigarette out under the heel of his boot, she shivered. The street lights flickered in agreement. The swell of relief she felt when he eventually clambered back in his van and finally left was tempered by the knowledge he would return.

In all her days, her years, in Mischief, she never interfered. She thought of herself as an observer. She watched events unfold. It was not her place to stick her nose into human business. This time, she thought, might be different. A warning surely couldn’t hurt. First thing in the morning, she decided, she would come up with a plan to warn Jeff.

It turned out she didn’t need to worry.

Jeff was up and about early. Even earlier than normal. She watched anxiously, unsure of what he was doing as he set to work in the kitchen, his expression unusually grim. For once it wasn’t the sugary smell of candy that drifted out of the window, rather it was the scent of herbs and roots and spices that tickled her nose. 

Jeff painted sigils on the shop door, under the welcome mat and around every wall, marks that soaked into the surfaces, disappearing and leaving behind a sharp sting of magic that no one would notice unless they were meant to. 

That afternoon, the man returned. There were children in the shop, pocket money grasped in their hands as they stared longingly at the jars of candy lining the shelves. Decisions were hard at nine years old.

Jeff scratched at his beard as he stared through the window and watched the man approach. His black van sitting as ominous and as threatening as a summer tornado in the quiet street. All it took was a tilt of Jeff’s head and Jared stepped out from behind the counter and placed himself between the shop door and the school children. Jeff took up a position in front of Jared, ignoring his huff of displeasure. 

The man didn’t make it past the open front door. His feet stopping abruptly, as though trapped in hot tar. He struggled for a moment, the vein in his neck bulging as he tried to push forward, 

“You realise this proves me right,” he snarled at Jeff.

“You don’t care about proof,” Jeff returned evenly, his hands slipping into the pockets of his pants. Even Jeff’s clothes were unusually subdued, dark and somber as though he was expecting trouble to call. “All you care about is revenge. I’m not the man you seek.”

“You’re one of _them_.”

“I sell candies and ice-cream. I’m no one.”

The man’s skin was fevered, burning up with fury. “You’re a monster.”

“You’re far closer to being that than me,” Jeff said, keeping his voice level. “Please leave my store.”

The man growled, the sound coming from deep within his chest. Behind Jeff, Jared tensed. And behind Jared, the schoolchildren carried on, oblivious. It was strange, she noted, how they showed no signs of hearing the exchange, almost as though it wasn’t just their physical bodies that Jeff and Jared were shielding, but also their young minds. 

“I will be back,” the man warned. “And next time I’ll be better prepared.”

Jeff stayed silent. Neither placating nor threatening.

“Now let me the fuck go,” the man said.

“I am not preventing you from leaving.”

And rightly, the man faced no difficulty in moving his feet when his direction of intent reversed. He left without grace. Punching at a basket of hanging flowers and snarling at Mrs. Blackwood’s spaniel. 

“He’s not going to leave town without a fight is he?” Jared asked, voice pitched low.

“What will be, will be. Fate is a funny thing.” Jeff shrugged, took his hands out of his pockets and clapped them, silver dust shimmering in the air behind him. 

Jared bit his lip, struggling to hold his tongue. He was a man of action. Waiting for trouble to come to him didn’t sit as easily as it seemed to for Jeff. The sudden clamouring of young voices asking for favourite candies suddenly chosen saved Jeff from further discussion, though. Jared eyed him knowingly. 

“Don’t worry,” Jeff said, patting Jared’s chest and planting a placating kiss on his cheek. “This will end well. I can feel it.”

She wasn’t so sure. Something momentous was about to happen, that much she could sense. Whether it ended well or not, she was too afraid to guess.   
  


The man returned at night. A hunter, she now knew. Had heard Jeff explaining to Jared. A ruthless one. He sought out the supernatural. Despised things he didn’t understand. Would kill anything he thought inhuman, uncaring of whether they were dangerous or not. He had a particular hatred of witches, dark or white. 

He was not alone when he returned. He had a boy with him. A man actually, but so slight and timid that he appeared younger than his years. The clothes he was dressed in were threadbare and ill-fitting, his thin tee-shirt made for a man twice his size. He had no shoes and an iron collar locked around his neck. 

The hunter dragged him from the back of the van and shoved him towards the shop. The boy/man stumbled, falling in an ungainly heap. Unsympathetic, the hunter grabbed his arm and yanked him roughly to his feet. “Get off your knees, Jenny boy, and get me in there.”

Jenny, a girl’s name, which the boy was definitely not despite his delicate bone structure and full lips. He scowled at the name, although he hid his face from the hunter as he did so, and walked cautiously towards the shop door. 

Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the boy run his fingers over the invisible lines of Jeff’s sigils. 

“This place isn’t dangerous,” he said. “Not at all.”

“I’m not asking for your opinion. I’m telling you to get me past the barriers so I can deal with these scummy witches.”

“The only magic here is good, pure,” Jenny tried again. “I promise you.”

“If that's true, then why can’t I get in?”

Jenny gnawed anxiously at his lip before he worked up the courage to reply. “Because… because you aren’t… _good_.”

The hunter drew his arm back and punched Jenny with enough force to knock out a full grown man never mind a too-skinny manchild. It was no surprise that the boy collapsed to the ground holding his face in his hands, his nose gushing blood. It was more of a surprise that he immediately climbed back to his feet. 

“Not good,” the hunter scoffed. “I’ve kept you alive so far, you ungrateful son of a freak.”

Jenny glared at him from behind his hands.

“Maybe it would be kinder to put you out of your misery. Is that what you’re trying to tell me, Jenny-boy? You want me to put you down like I did your brother, your mother?”

The boy didn’t reply but she saw a whirlpool of anger rise up in his eyes. Felt the hate simmering through his blood. 

“I didn’t think so,” the hunter replied. “Now get me in that damn building.”

“The door,” the boy started to say, wiping the blood from his face with his arm.

The hunter cut him off, shoving him out of the way. “Jesus, do I have to do everything myself?” He produced a silver lock-pick out of his jacket pocket and, after muttering several colourful curse words under his breath, eventually succeeded in cracking open the lock. A turn of the handle, a push, and the door swung open, creaking a warning on its hinges. 

The hunter tried to step across the threshold but made it no further than he had earlier in the day. 

Turning back, he grabbed the boy by his elbow and dragged him forward. “Now, get me past whatever black magics are warding the place.”

“There are no black magics,” the boy tried to tell the hunter again. “It’s just a protection spell.”

Jaw clenched, the hunter growled.“I. Don’t. Care. Get me in there now, Jenny, or the next witch I kill will be you.”

She paced nervously, watching.

Jenny’s lips moved, words uttered in an under-breath whisper. His fingers tracing the invisible outline of one of Jeff’s carefully placed sigils. She would swear she saw a spark of lights, like a burst of tiny fireflies escaping a glass jar. And then, Jenny walked through the doorway into Mischief Candy. 

She slipped in beside him. Unnoticed as always.

The hunter followed. Or tried to. The air crackled like static in a storm and with a thunderous boom, he was blown backwards. 

“You traitorous little shit,” he hissed, pulling a knife out of his jacket. A long, ugly blade tainted with the taste of magic blood. “I’m going to skin you alive.”

The boy stared back at him, eyes wide and wild and shocked. 

“Now, now,” Jeff said, appearing from the shadows behind the counter. “It’s not your young friend’s fault that you can’t get through my door. I’m afraid I know a trick or two that he doesn’t.”

The boy startled badly at Jeff’s appearance, hunching his shoulders and trying to make himself disappear. 

“You can’t hide in there forever, witch,” the hunter snarled. “And I’m not going anywhere, not until you and Padalcki are ashes.”

“We are not your enemy,” Jeff said. “Not unless you’re morally opposed to candy and ice cream.”

“You think you’re the first assholes to bewitch people with candy? Read some fairytales, dumbass, it’s the oldest trick in the book. The townsfolk might think you’re harmless but I know what you’re up to really.”

Jeff laughed. “You think I’m kidnapping children, stuffing them full of candy and eating them?”

“You think it’s funny?”

“I think it’s hilarious. How about I let you in and show you around so you can see my kitchen. My non-human sized oven. The lack of child-holding cages. This isn’t a fairytale, hunter. Hansel and Gretel aren’t here.”

“That’s what you would say,” the hunter sneered. “But sure, let me in, show me around, maybe you’ll convince me.”

“Or maybe you won’t give him the chance. Maybe you’ll shoot him in the head as soon as he grants you entry.” 

At the sound of Jared Padalecki’s voice, the foreboding sight of him appearing from behind Jeff, tall and angry, Jenny stumbled backwards deep into the corner of the room, arms clasped around himself, fear leeching the last of the colour from his bloodied face. 

The hunter’s flinch wasn’t as obvious, but his free hand jumped to the gun shoved in his waistband. “Why don’t you let me in and we’ll see,” he countered.

“Fine,” Jeff said.

It happened quickly. Too quickly for anyone to act. Though, from the terror on the boy’s face and the surprise on Jared’s, they both would have stopped Jeff given half a chance. 

Closing his eyes, Jeff mumbled a few words under his breath and snapped his fingers. The hunter fell through the doorway, as shocked as Jared and the boy. 

He recovered quickly, the disbelief on his face dissolving into murderous determination. 

“Now,” Jeff said, “Why don’t we sit down and talk about this like...”

The hunter wasn’t listening. Jeff was perhaps the only one of them who thought he might. Knife brandished with intent, the hunter, the killer, charged across the shop, bee-lining straight for Jeff.

Immediately, Jeff raised his hand and closed his eyes, Jared cursed and moved to his side, but Jenny, the boy cowering in the corner, was the one who moved first and fastest. 

Darting from his hiding place, he jumped into the hunter’s path. “No,” he said, and though his voice was soft she could hear the anger bubbling up from within him. “These are good people. You can’t hurt them.”

“I can,” the hunter snarled, swiping his knife towards Jenny. “And I will. And you’re next, freak.”

Instead of shrinking back, or trying to run, the boy charged forward, towards the knife rather than away from it, an outraged cry spilling from his lips. 

The knife tore into his shoulder, blood spilling wet on the blade.

And then… time stopped.

The hunter was frozen, his face screwed into an ugly picture of hatred, the tip of his knife buried in the boy’s scrawny body.

Jeff, and Jared were unmoving. 

At least, for a second. 

“Jeff,” Jared said. “How did you… you’re not that powerful.”

“No, but we are. Now.”

Jared shook his head, his eyes darting anxiously to the frozen tableau. “I don’t understand.”

“The boy,” Jeff said. “He’s ours.”

“What?”

And despite everything, the hunter, the knife, the blood, the stench of fear and fury hanging in the air… Jeff smiled. 

“He’s ours. Yours and mine. And we are his.”

“Are you sure?” Jared looked hopeful. Happy, but afraid to be so. 

Jeff exhaled, turned toward Jared, and kissed him. “Can’t you feel it?” he asked, when he broke away. “Can’t you tell when you look at him?”

Jared looked over towards the boy, the blood blooming across his ragged tee-shirt. “He’s beautiful,” Jared said. “He’s… scared.”

“He's brave,” Jeff said. “And we’ll help him.”

Jared nodded, his trust in Jeff unshakable. “What now? What do we do?”

“Now,” Jeff said, eyes narrowing as his gaze shifted towards the hunter. “Now, we save our boy and we deal with _him_.”

They took the boy to their spare room, Jeff removing the knife and Jared carrying him up the stairs like he weighed nothing at all. They dressed his wound and left him sleeping, knowing he wouldn’t wake up. Not until Jeff lifted his spell. And he wouldn’t do that until they were all safe.

They didn’t kill the hunter.

Jeff was a better man than that, even though, after all the blood he’d taken, the lives he’d ruined, the hunter more than deserved an unpleasant end. 

What they did, or rather what Jeff did with Jared’s help, was wipe his mind. Of everything. Of his name, his past, his hatred and his purpose. Of who he was.

And then they put him on a Greyhound bus to Chicago, with fifty bucks, no weapons, and no ID. They abandoned his van in a no-parking zone and left the cops to deal with it. And then they went home and forgot all about him. 

They had far more important things to think about. Like Jenny. The boy who was really a man. Young and scared, but braver than anyone.

He slept for over twenty-four hours. Jared cut off his collar and crushed it. Jeff changed his dressing every few hours, applying his own special salve each time. They took turns sitting by his bed. Never left him alone for a minute.

She stayed in the room the whole time, watching over them all with the fierce protective instinct of a new mother. 

Jenny was afraid when he woke. Too frightened to open his eyes at first, trembling under the bed sheet, silent tears rolling down his face. His eyelashes, damp and dark, clung to his cheek.

Jeff talked to him, his voice drifting through the air, a soothing lullaby. “You’re safe,” he told the boy, over and over. “He’s gone. He won’t ever hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

Eventually the boy’s eyelids fluttered open, his green eyes shining brilliantly with tears but also, she thought, with hope. 

His name was Jensen. Jensen Ackles. He was 21 years-old, though that was hard for any of them to believe. He was so slight, almost starved, his bones sharp and face gaunt. 

His story came out slowly. His family was dead, his brother and mother killed by the hunter. He’d been younger, only thirteen years old and small enough for the hunter to control. To use. Jensen had magics. But they’d been stronger when he’d been with his family. When he’d been healthy. Happy.

Jeff made soup. Chicken noodle. And Jared baked bread. They fed and cared for him. And did their best to sooth his nightmares.

Perhaps Jensen should have been scared of them. These strange men. He was undoubtedly wary in the beginning, but in the beginning he was wary even of his own reflection in the mirror. He jumped at shadows and flinched at loud noises. Patience and kindness gradually cured the worst of his nerves. And before long, even though Jeff had ordered bed rest, Jensen was sneaking out of bed and creeping around the apartment, quiet as a mouse, cautious, but curious. 

Jared and Jeff left him to it. Neither chiding nor over-enthusiastic. They allowed him to recover at his own pace. To trust when the time was right. To come to them. Or to leave. 

“He’s not a stray cat,” Jared said to Jeff once when his patience, never his strongest virtue, was waning.

“He’s been as mistreated as one,” Jeff had said. “And we shouldn’t try and trap him here if he wants to roam free.”

Jared’s face had paled at the thought. 

“He won’t leave,” Jeff assured him. “But he still needs time.”  
  


The day Jensen first appeared in the store, wearing ill-fitting clothes pilfered from Jeff’s closet rather than the pyjamas they’d seen him in a few hours earlier, he watched from the sidelines. Barely daring to move. 

He drew a few looks. He was too pretty not to. But there was a fragility about the way he held himself, a vulnerability in the dip of his chin, a tremor running through his too-visible bones, which stopped anyone from approaching him. He left after an hour. Slipping away like a shadow. Hid in the small spare room that Jeff had said was his own private space where they wouldn’t bother him. He didn’t come out for the rest of the day. 

She was surprised when he persevered. Stubborn and brave, she thought proudly. He appeared every day without fail. For the whole week. Watching and learning. Staying a few minutes longer in the store every day. He never spoke. Not one word. 

It was a child who finally forced him out of his hiding spot. A little boy, maybe four years old, with a mop of wild blonde curls and big somber eyes. He didn’t make a fuss. Didn’t have a tantrum or cry. He just slid his hand in Jensen’s and tugged him ever so gently towards the jars of candies that were so far above the child’s head he couldn’t even see what was in them. 

Jared and Jeff looked as though they were holding their breaths when Jensen took the boy in his arms and lifted him up so he could peer in all the jars. The child wrapped a chubby arm around Jensen’s neck, and gazed wide-eyed at the row of colourful candies. They whispered together like old friends, the boy’s mouth close to Jensen’s ear and Jensen’s voice quiet, inaudible to all but the boy. When the child pointed to a jar of strawberry laces, Jensen carefully picked it up from the shelf.

He made his way to the counter, setting the boy down when he reached it, and turned anxiously to Jeff, who immediately acted as though he hadn’t been watching the whole time and was terribly busy with another customer and simply waved him on. 

Jensen very carefully measured out the strawberry laces on the old-fashioned brass scale they used and then poured them into a small paper bag. He twisted the lid back on the jar, before kneeling down and handing the bag to the boy. The boy took it cautiously, didn’t grab, pressed his other hand against Jensen’s face and then kissed his cheek.

The woman Jeff was pretending to serve gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth. “He’s never… they said he wouldn’t be able to… he doesn’t… he doesn’t communicate well with… with anyone really.”

“Jensen isn’t just anyone,” Jeff said to her kindly. 

When they left, the boy waved back at Jensen, a small smile lighting up his face. His tearful mother gaped between her son and Jensen with awestruck eyes. 

“You did good,” Jared said, feet jiggling on the spot and hands twitching like he was trying very hard not to clap Jensen on the back or drag him into a hug.

Jensen shrugged shyly, and disappeared not long after. 

That was the start though. Soon, Jensen was spending most afternoons in the shop, still wary, still painfully shy, but wonderful and open-hearted and a magnet for every child who needed a kind word, or a helping hand, or just a few minutes of undivided attention.

Jeff and Jared beamed with pride every time a parent thanked Jensen, causing his cheeks to flush cherry-red in embarrassment. 

Upstairs in the apartment, Jensen gradually spent less and less time hiding away in his bedroom. He took small steps, but he took them with determination and without falter. From having to be dragged into the kitchen at mealtimes and gently bullied into eating with them, to joining them with a quiet thank you and healthy appetite, to cooking them all the best lasagne Jared swore he’d ever tasted. 

In the evenings, he went from hiding away in his bedroom to spending more and more time with them in the living room. From sitting stiffly on the floor by the door watching television with one eye, and Jared and Jeff with the other, to sitting with his back against the sofa, to eventually joining them on it, curled up amongst the cushions, sometimes even with his head against Jared’s shoulder, or his feet in Jeff’s lap. 

He still spoke rarely. But that too, Jeff assured Jared, would come with time. Jensen was recovering. Was slowly putting the horrors he’d suffered behind him. With encouragement, patience and compassion, he was finally opening up, like a flower blooming under the light and warmth of the summer sun.

Jared and Jeff wanted more. They wanted to share everything with the boy. Not just their home, but their whole lives, their love in all its entirety. It was obvious to everyone who saw the adoring way they gazed at him. But it was never more obvious than when Jensen eventually started to join them for breakfast, sleep still caught in his eyes, hair pillow ruffled and bare toes curling against the cold kitchen floor. 

How Jensen never noticed the way the two men stared openly at him as he drank his morning coffee, she never understood. Perhaps because he was never truly awake until he’d finished the entire mug, by which time Jared and Jeff had more or less gotten themselves under control.

She could understand their fascination though. She wasn’t human but even she could appreciate the way Jensen’s dark eyelashes fluttered shut at the first taste of coffee hitting his lips, and the breathy sighs of pleasure he made after every sip. 

And perhaps, she eventually decided, Jensen wasn’t entirely oblivious to the effect he had on the men. 

It was Jensen’s suggestion after all to buy a coffee machine for the shop. It was an idea pounced on greedily by both Jeff and Jared. And though they no doubt did it only so the opportunity to watch Jensen drink coffee arose far more often, Jensen’s coffees turned out to be a popular new addition to Mischief Candy’s menu. 

Their customers, their older ones at least, loved the drinks that Jensen made and would stand patiently for as long as it took him to make each cup as perfect as he could. His standards, when it came to coffee, were high. And god forbid if anyone ruined a cup with too much sugar. Not that Jensen ever complained, but the crest-fallen expression on his face when someone ruined his masterpiece with three teaspoons of sugar was enough to make even the gruffest sugar-addict want to beg his forgiveness. 

Even sweet-toothed Jared cut down his sugar-consumption, when it came to his coffee at least, and started allowing himself only one spoonful of the stuff. 

Jensen’s coffee was so delicious that it really didn’t need sugar. That’s what Jared told Jeff anyway. Jeff snorted into his own black coffee, earning a disgruntled huff from Jared. 

The only problem with allowing Jensen a coffee machine was that suddenly everyone was now allowed to watch Jensen drink cup after cup of coffee. Jared and Jeff discovered they had a problem with that only when it was too late to stop it.

Thankfully, the pornographic noises Jensen made around his first cup of morning coffee did not last all day, otherwise even Jeff’s laidback manners might have been tested. It was bad enough he had to watch half the town stare open-mouthed, and all but drooling, as Jensen sipped happily at his americano with an extra shot, or his pumpkin-spiced blend, when he was feeling the need to spice things up. And if Jeff was barely managing to hide his jealousy, Jared was having to take so many breaks to stop himself from snapping at infatuated mothers and grandmothers, and even some fathers, that the sale of ice-cream was suffering.

Thankfully, Jensen found a way to soothe their jealousy and save Mischief Candy’s customers from their territorial growls. 

She knew he was brave. He’d stood up to a hunter who’d enslaved him. Thrown himself in front of a knife. Overcome his fear, crippling shyness and endless nightmares. 

But his bravery reached new levels when he finally made his move. And kissed Jeff. And Jared. One and then the other. Right there in the store, as they glared at a customer who’d been (almost) innocently watching Jensen drink his coffee.

Jensen was shy and unsure, almost Victorian in demurity at first. Until Jeff and Jared responded with so much enthusiasm he was left breathless and lightheaded. And laughing.

After that Jensen stopped taking baby steps. He jumped into life with Jared and Jeff with both feet. And his whole heart. And body. And soul.

Soon, people forgot a time when Jensen hadn’t been there. Jeff, Jared and Jensen were a threesome. A perfect, weird, wonderful and beautiful trifecta. Like peanut butter, jelly and bread. The townsfolk of Mischief loved them as much as they loved their candies, their ice-cream and their coffee. And the pies that Jensen learned how to bake. 

And much as they loved the old calico cat that made her home in the warmest corner of the store, when she wasn’t winding her way around Jensen’s legs. Or lying in the middle of the huge bed in Jeff’s room. 

Not that she was always welcome there.   
  
  


Jensen’s legs were wrapped around Jeff’s hips as Jeff stumbled into the bedroom and they collapsed onto the bed, Jared following close behind, a whole apple pie and a can of cream in his hands.

Jensen wriggled on Jeff’s lap, his lips latching onto the soft skin just below Jeff’s ear. Jeff’s hands slid below Jensen’s shirt. 

“Naked, Jensen, you need to get naked.”

Jared set the food down on a bedside table, and joined them on the bed, kissing the back of Jensen’s neck. “Yes, Jensen, I can’t lick pie and cream off your pretty freckles if you aren’t naked.”

“You are obsessed with my freckles,” Jensen complained, without heat.

Jared kissed away his objections while he stripped him, running his fingertips over the bursts of golden freckles he was the first to admit he was fascinated with.

“Can we perhaps evict the cat before we get any more naked?” Jeff asked.

She stood up and stretched, glaring at them all for interrupting her nap.

“She’s not just a cat, Jeff,” Jensen scolded, slapping Jeff’s chest before he scritched at the top of her head. She purred under his hand. He was definitely her favourite. 

“No, she’s a magical, mystical, very special familiar,” Jeff said, rolling his eyes fondly while he picked her up off the bed. She didn’t complain, only because Jeff had the softest hands and gentlest touch. He set her down just outside the bedroom door. “You’ve told us, sweetheart. A hundred times. We know.”

“She brought us together. She made us stronger. Strong enough to stop time. To stop _him_ ,” Jensen was saying, as Jeff firmly shut the bedroom door. 

Jensen was only partly right. She didn’t bring them here; the town of Mischief did that. She did make them stronger, and they made her stronger. And maybe one day, she would be strong enough to let them see who she really was.

Not now, though. Now she was going to go sleep on the sofa. There were some things she didn't need to hear. And the noises already coming from the bedroom were one of them.   
  


  
  


_Finis_

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